Dreams are random tonight
Erratic rain is kissing my pillow
Wishes galore, crackers burst
Are suddenly out of their boxes.
Even the happy ones
Are dressed in pale, black
I ask them again and again
“Why are you back in this lonely night?”
All friends are in their deep sleep
No one can reply, a company
Is giving her duties to others,
Of a sore heart dying for times
Lived tighter, wrote in conversation.
Time is a relentless wheel.
It crushes all works we do together.
The present cannot hold.
Tomorrow is a fresh start,
A full rite of yesterdays. Living
With all in the graveyards. Misty.
I plant saplings for future
My parents are leaning towards a river, swallowing
All come by the day’s end
Small things have Himalayan responsibilities.
I have no dream that is not her
I have no hearth that is not visited.
All games have results, trophies
The game heart is open
Joint pains, all midnight mutterings
Afraid to revisit in the morning.
The heart is a receiver.
Time moves erratic
Sweet people turn lifeless
Friends of new fashions, hobbies.
Machines speak in abundance
Unuttered words are all four-letter words now.
This time, the clock has stopped.
Emotions fossilized in bloodlessness.
Our house is a home.
Doors are shut. Walls
Talk to other walls. All
Whisper, there’s time to grow up
With the heart and the hearth, by the clock.
A fellow caregiver lends her heart for a loan,
“Learn, poet. Learn.”
There’s no end to learning, growing up
With time and friendship. “Stop there.”